The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing - Chapter 37

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 37: The Battle of the Prague Plain

──────

Rumbleeeee―

Clank, clank!

More than three hundred steel carts began moving at once.

Like a massive steel serpent uncoiling and crawling toward its prey, they advanced slowly but surely.

There were no battle cries.

It was a silent march that tightened around the hearts of an army one hundred thousand strong.

Only the heavy rumble of wheels crushing the earth and the chilling clang of thousands of chains striking one another could be heard.

A quiet curse slipped from the Emperor's lips.

"Madmen."

It was a sight that defied common sense, no, every medieval tactical manual.

An ordinary Wagenburg should have formed a circle, built a defensive position, and remained hunkered down within it.

Yet they had crawled out on their own, challenging him to a frontal battle in the middle of an open plain.

The Elector of Saxony, Frederick of Saxony, shouted excitedly.

"Your Majesty! We must teach those arrogant heretics a lesson!"

He had already lowered his visor and gripped his lance.

"They seem to think those carts can stop our knights' charge, but I'll crush them flat! Give the order to charge at once...!"

Sigismund raised a hand instead of answering, stopping him. His gray eyes narrowed.

'What are they plotting?'

Was it just reckless bravado? No. If that man had been foolish enough for that, the Hussites would have crushed him at Sternberg Castle long ago.

He clearly had something to rely on.

To shake off his unease, Sigismund chose his safest and surest card first.

"Send the archers forward. Rain flaming arrows upon them."

He gave the order coldly.

"Turn those cumbersome carts into ash. A few oil-soaked arrows will set wooden boards blazing."

Boom, boom, boom―!

At the Emperor's command, drums thundered through the Imperial army's camp.

The archers stepped forward. The oil-soaked cloth wrapped around their arrowheads was lit, and thousands of archers drew their bows at once.

"Fire!"

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh―!

Thousands of flaming arrows covered the sky, trailing red tails behind them. Like a meteor shower, they descended upon the approaching steel legion.

Sigismund crossed his arms and watched.

Once that rain of arrows fell, the carts would catch fire. Soldiers choking on smoke would crawl out screaming and roll across the ground.

The enemy formation would collapse into chaos, and then the knights would be unleashed to tear them apart. That was the proper way to fight in this age.

But then.

Ting! Ting, ting!

The flames he had expected did not rise.

No screams followed.

The arrows did not even lodge in the carts.

The Panzer's roofs sloped at an angle and were covered in smooth steel.

Flaming arrows falling straight from the sky struck the steel roofs, slid off helplessly, and fell to the ground.

The flames could gain no hold on the cold steel plates. They went out uselessly, leaving only black scorch marks behind.

The Duke of Bavaria cried out in alarm.

"Th-that isn't wood!"

"It won't burn! They've covered the entire thing in steel!"

Sigismund could hardly believe his eyes.

'Madness... It's solid steel from floor to ceiling?'

This was not a wooden cart reinforced with thin steel plates. It was simply a moving mass of steel.

How many smithies would have to be operating to hammer out that many steel plates one by one? It was an impossible quantity, enough to empty even the Imperial treasury.

Of course, Sigismund could not have imagined that the steel had not been shaped by blacksmiths' hammers, but produced from molten iron pouring out of a Blast furnace, powered by Coke.

Sigismund bit his lip.

"Then pierce them! Send in the crossbowmen from Genoa! Whether it's iron hide or thin steel plate, there is no armor a windlass crossbow from Genoa cannot penetrate!"

At the Emperor's command, one thousand mercenaries from Genoa stepped forward. They wound their winches and loaded crossbows with tremendous draw strength.

Creak, creak, creak―

Their mechanical crossbows were deadly weapons capable of piercing even a knight's plate armor.

The steel plating fitted to mere carts was surely no more durable than paper.

"Fire!"

Thoom―!

With a heavy thud, a thousand crossbow bolts flew forward in a flat arc.

Yet the result was the same.

No, the sound was even louder and more ridiculous.

Clang! Clang!

Rattle! Ting!

The bolts could not pierce the steel plates.

The Panzer's armor was cunningly sloped. Bolts flying in from the front ricocheted upward or slid sideways along the angled surface, throwing sparks.

Even the occasional bolt that struck at a perfect right angle only left a shallow dent in the thick steel before bouncing away.

"This can't be..."

Sigismund's eyes widened in shock.

That could no longer be called a cart.

It was a moving castle wall, no, a fortress made of steel.

Irritation began to creep into Sigismund's voice.

"If arrows won't work, tear them apart! Send in the infantry! Aim for the gaps! Break the wheels, tear off the doors, and drag out the rats inside!"

Waaaaah―!

At the Emperor's command, the Imperial army's front-line infantry charged with a roar.

Armored men-at-arms and axe-wielding mercenaries surged toward the steel wall.

They clung to the carts, searching for weak points between them, around the wheels, or at the doors.

"Break them! Open the doors!"

"Target the joints! Smash the hinges!"

As the soldiers clung to the carts and raised their axes, small openings appeared across the smooth steel plates.

Screeech― Click!

From within those dark holes, black muzzles faced the soldiers directly.

"Huh?"

Before any soldier could utter that foolish sound, gunfire erupted.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat―!

With a sound like thunder, red flames and black smoke burst from the firing ports.

There was no need to aim.

Hand cannons and crossbows fired at point-blank range into enemies packed tightly against the carts. They were machines of slaughter.

"Aaargh!"

"Ahhh! Save me!"

Armor was pierced like paper. It did not matter whether they were peasant levies or professional soldiers. Every man at the front spewed blood and fell like a scarecrow.

"Don't retreat! Press forward!"

The commanders urged them on, but it was useless.

Approach, and they were shot. Keep their distance, and there was nothing they could do.

A hill of corpses quickly rose before the steel carts. The stench of blood filled the air, and Gunpowder smoke lay thick across the ground.

Even amid that hellish chaos, the steel serpent did not stop.

Crunch, crack!

Whenever corpses caught beneath the wheels, bones crunched as the carts rolled over them.

The wheels, coated in blood, slid forward, yet kept advancing without fail.

Bloodshot veins filled Sigismund's eyes.

"Dammit!"

Even the infantry was being ground down without piercing that steel wall. At this rate, his army of one hundred thousand would be crushed beneath those monstrous wheels.

This would not do.

The Emperor decided to use his trump card.

"Bring up the cannons! Deploy the bronze siege guns to the front! Turn those insolent lumps of steel into scrap!"

They were the latest siege guns, commissioned at great expense from Italian craftsmen.

He had originally brought them to smash Prague's walls, but destroying that moving wall had become the urgent priority.

Rumble―

Ten heavy bronze cannons were dragged forward by soldiers and warhorses.

"Aim... Fire!"

Boom―!

A blazing red flame burst from the muzzles with a deafening roar. Cannonballs tore through the air beyond the white smoke.

Clang― Crash!

"We hit them!"

The princes cheered.

Sigismund saw it clearly as well. The leading steel cart had taken a direct hit.

No matter how much steel covered it, it could not withstand the force of a cannonball.

The steel plate tore apart like taffy. Internal structures shattered, and fragments and blood sprayed in every direction.

The cart's axle broke, and it sank hard to one side.

"That's it! We've broken them!"

The Elector of Saxony, Frederick of Saxony, shouted with delight.

"All forces, charge! Through that gap...!"

A relieved smile had just begun to form on Sigismund's lips.

Screeech―

The cart half-destroyed by the cannonball did not stop.

No, it could not stop.

Thick chains connecting it to the other carts pulled tight, forcibly dragging the crippled cart onward.

Its broken axle scraped against the ground and threw sparks, but it was pulled by the carts ahead and behind it, and the formation held.

Something even more shocking happened immediately afterward.

The rear door of the broken cart opened, and bloodied soldiers rushed out.

"Cut the chains! Hurry!"

Clank! Click!

Rather than fleeing in terror, they moved in perfect coordination like well-trained machine parts.

As one team cut the connecting chains of the broken cart, a reserve cart following behind accelerated and pulled up beside it.

"Connect it! Quickly!"

In an instant, the chains were hooked into place.

The cart that had become scrap was abandoned by the roadside, and a new cart perfectly filled its place.

The breached steel wall reformed into a flawless straight line in less than a minute.

"...Hah."

A breath escaped Sigismund's lips.

How was he supposed to fight something like that?

An immortal legion that kept coming no matter how much it was struck by cannons or stabbed with swords.

The infantry had already lost its will to fight. Realizing that approaching the steel wall meant death by gunfire, and that even cannon fire was useless, the soldiers began backing away.

At this rate, the front would collapse.

Sigismund spoke as if spitting out the words.

"Deploy the knights."

"What? Ah, at last!"

Color returned to Frederick's face.

"We should have done this from the beginning! Once our Imperial heavy cavalry crashes into those crude toys made by peasants, they'll all be smashed to pieces! I'll lead the vanguard...!"

"No."

Sigismund cut him off coldly.

"A frontal charge is forbidden."

"What?"

"Go around them. Spread the troops wide along both sides and strike the enemy's flanks and rear."

The Emperor's judgment was cold and clear.

Those steel carts specialized in frontal defense.

Yet a long horizontal line of carts linked together would inevitably be vulnerable at its sides and rear.

An encircling attack using cavalry's mobility against a slow cart force would be devastating.

But the princes did not seem convinced.

"Your Majesty, an encircling maneuver against nothing more than peasant rabble?"

The Duke of Bavaria snorted.

"Do we really need to make such a wide detour against that disorganized mob? We can simply trample them."

"That's right. It goes against chivalry. Striking the enemy from behind is something cowards do!"

The princes did not hide their displeasure.

To them, war was a stage upon which to display their valor. Breaking through the enemy line in spectacular fashion and taking their banners before an army of one hundred thousand was a knight's dream.

But they were being told to sneak around like rats and attack from behind. Their pride was wounded.

"You idiots...!"

Unable to bear it any longer, Sigismund slammed his fist against the pommel of his saddle.

Bang!

"Is this the time to play at chivalry? Open your eyes and look! Do they look like ordinary peasants to you? Do they look like a disorganized mob?"

The princes flinched at the Emperor's roar.

"That is a castle wall! A moving fortress of steel! What fool rams his head against a castle wall with his bare body? Strike at their weakness! Go around their flank and break their formation!"

Murderous intent poured from Sigismund's eyes. Faced with the Emperor's fierce threat, the princes finally fell silent.

"...Ahem. Understood."

"If that is Your Majesty's will..."

Grumbling, they returned to their respective knightly orders.

Soon afterward, horn calls rang out, and the pride of the Imperial army, five thousand heavy cavalry, began to move.

Bwooo―!

As ordered, they did not charge head-on. Instead, they turned their horses and rode in broad arcs around both sides of the battlefield.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud―

Hooves thundered across the plain.

Banners bearing the heraldry of Saxony, Bavaria, and Austria fluttered in the wind.

At the front, Heinrich, commander of the Bavarian knights, rode at ease with his visor raised.

"His Imperial Majesty is quite fearful. To think he wants us to make such a detour over a few carts and peasant soldiers."

Heinrich's voice was full of ease.

The enemy line was about three hundred meters away.

It was an absolutely safe distance, beyond the reach of arrows, crossbows, and even those fearsome matchlock guns.

"Look at that, Sir Heinrich. They seem to think hiding inside their shells like turtles will keep them safe."

"Leave them be. Once we get behind them, they'll crawl out and beg for their lives anyway."

To the knights, this flanking maneuver was no more than a tedious stroll. They would toy with the enemy from outside its range, then hunt down its most vulnerable rear.

No matter how thick the frontal armor was, surely the sides and rear could not be covered in steel as well.

"Shall we pick up the pace? Let's go flip those turtles over!"

Just as Heinrich was about to spur his horse, the side armor of the Panzer Wagenburg they were passing began to open with a strange metallic sound.

Clank! Screeech―

The knights, who had been watching only the front, stared wide-eyed.

"Wh-what is that?"

"They're going to fire Hand cannons from that distance?"

"There's no way they can reach us."

The side firing ports were far too large to be ordinary gun barrels.

They were massive holes large enough for a person to enter.

From the darkness within, grotesque masses of steel emerged.

They were neither slender Hand cannons nor the smooth bronze cannons of the Imperial army.

Rough, crude black masses of steel.

Thirty black cannon muzzles, three times as numerous as the bronze cannons the Emperor had obtained with such difficulty, aimed directly at the exposed flanks of the knights.

"...Cannons! They're cannons!"

"Madness! There aren't just one or two!"

"Don't panic! Cannons can't reach this far either! They won't hit us anyway!"

While the knights murmured in panic, dozens of cannons fired at once.

Boom―!

A roar erupted as though the world had been overturned.

Fwoooosh―!

Cannonballs pouring from the muzzles crossed the safe distance the knights had trusted in without effort.

"Ah...?"

Heinrich stared blankly at the black dot flying toward him.

A mass of death he could neither evade nor block.

Crash! Splat!